Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(25)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

“It’s the price I have to pay to bring joy back to Edgecliff.”

 

“And perhaps to yourself?”

 

She finished her taco. “You’re quite the philosopher today.”

 

“I don’t philosophize. I observe.”

 

“And what do you observe in me?”

 

He rested his elbows on the table and linked his fingers. “I see opportunities and possibilities.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“I’m not certain. I imagine time will tell. How are the tacos?”

 

She wiped any stray sauce off her lips with a napkin. “Delicious, as always. But more than I can eat in one sitting.”

 

“Save the other one for later. But you have to sample Eleanor’s cake.” He withdrew a plastic fork from the bag.

 

“I suppose I could try one bite.”

 

She opened the plastic wrap, broke off a small piece, and put it in her mouth. Rich flavor exploded on her taste buds. “My. Whoever this Eleanor is, she knows how to bake a chocolate cake.”

 

“Eleanor has many talents—and a fascinating story. You’d enjoy hearing it.”

 

“You could tell it to me.”

 

“Stories are always best heard from the source.” He gave the grounds a sweep. “Where’s your partner today?”

 

“Sleeping, I expect. The poor girl was exhausted after her long drive. I saw her leave this morning. Church, I’m guessing. When she came back, she disappeared into the carriage house and hasn’t reappeared.” She motioned in the direction of the structure that was around the side of the main house and hidden from view.

 

“So you’ve had the place to yourself.”

 

“Except for Lucy Lynn. And I enjoyed every minute of it.” It was important for him to understand that despite his gentle prodding, she had zero inclination to rejoin society.

 

“Speaking of Lucy Lynn, may I visit with her while I’m here? Catch up on her latest escapades?”

 

“Of course. It’s always a delight to welcome you to the cottage.” She indulged in one more large bite of cake and rewrapped the remainder.

 

“Also a rare privilege, for which I’m grateful.”

 

She rose, cake in hand, and took his arm. “Rare friends deserve rare privileges.”

 

“Thank you for that.” He picked up the brown bag.

 

“The thanks are all on my end. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have Lucy Lynn.”

 

“And the world would be a bit less bright.”

 

As they strolled toward the cottage, the two gulls flapped their wings, rose into the air, and flew toward the carriage house.

 

Charley watched them, his expression pensive. “Curious.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I expected them to head back to sea.” He placed his hand over hers. “I believe interesting times are ahead.”

 

He changed the subject then, but it was hard to concentrate on the conversation, thanks to an unfamiliar tingle tickling her nerve endings.

 

Could it be nervousness?

 

No. It was impossible to be nervous in Charley’s presence. The man radiated peace and serenity.

 

It was more like . . . anticipation?

 

Yes, that was it.

 

This was how she’d felt the day she’d been accepted into the conservatory and the whole world had brimmed with potential.

 

But that had been almost six decades ago, when youth had been on her side. Before a less-than-happy marriage and scandal and death had tarnished her dreams and snuffed out any thought of bright, shining possibilities.

 

Strange that Charley would have mentioned the notion of possibilities today. Especially since he’d seemed to be referring to more than the transformation of Edgecliff.

 

“After you, Rose.” He paused at the door of the cottage she now called home.

 

She twisted the knob and stepped inside. “You’ll notice quite a few differences. Once I decided to move in, I did a fair amount of redecorating.”

 

“I appreciate this peek into your inner sanctum.”

 

“Lucy Lynn wouldn’t have it any other way.” She ushered him toward the back of the cottage and began to fill him in on all the latest developments.

 

It was fun to chat about Lucy Lynn with Charley. And safe.

 

Because her taco-making artist friend knew how to keep secrets.

 

 

 

 

 

10

 

 

He was early, but Ashley was earlier.

 

Emerging from the greenery that shrouded the entrance to Edgecliff, Jon eased back on the accelerator.

 

The female figure was too far away to see clearly, but at six thirty in the morning, it had to be her. His crew wouldn’t be here for another hour. Nor would BJ’s. He wouldn’t have risen at the crack of dawn either, if he hadn’t wanted to take a few measurements in the gazebo area before BJ’s people descended.

 

However, spending one-on-one time with Rose’s partner hadn’t been in his plans.

 

The first rays of sun peeking over the hills to the east gilded her slender form, and as she lifted her face toward the heavens, his pulse hitched.

 

Blast.

 

That kind of adolescent reaction was crazy.

 

It was also unprofessional, immature, pointless, and pathetic. Ashley Scott was his client.

 

Period.

 

Clamping his jaw shut, he pressed on the gas again.

 

He had to get a handle on his emotions. Shove any that were inappropriate into the darkest corner of his heart with all the others he’d stowed there over the past few years.

 

And he would.

 

Soon.

 

But since his misbehaving heart wasn’t listening at the moment, that probably wasn’t going to happen today. Until it did, all he could do was try to corral his unruly hormones.

 

Ashley turned as he swung into the circle drive, shaded her eyes against the sun, and lifted a hand in greeting. Rather than walk over to meet him as she had at their last encounter, she waited near the gazebo site while he parked, sipping from a lidded mug.